


The Darkness In Me: Superior!Tony x Peter x Tony

by SubverbalDreams



Series: The Darkness In Me: Superior Iron Man/Peter Parker/Tony Stark [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Sex, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blowjobs, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dark!Tony, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, M/M/M, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Mindfuck, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Starker, Superior Iron Man, Tony x Superior!Tony x Unsuspecting Peter, all characters are at or above age of consent, and goes downhill from there, dubious everything, not quite non-con but tread lightly, seriously it starts with Tony tied to a bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubverbalDreams/pseuds/SubverbalDreams
Summary: Superior Iron Man has crossed the barrier between worlds. He immediately seeks out his shadow-self to usurp his rightful place and become ruler of this new universe.He'll start with the innocent-eyed pretty boy whose number is first on Tony's speed dial.Based on a prompt by @reniisbooks on tumblr.Everyone is over 18 in this story.





	The Darkness In Me: Superior!Tony x Peter x Tony

**Author's Note:**

> **Please note: this has been tagged for dubious consent.** There is dubcon. Mind your headspace.

There have been a few (read: many) times in Tony’s life when he’s known he was fucked. Now, looking into his own eyes, ice-blue and devoid of empathy, he feels a great surge of nostalgia for those good old days.

Every inch of his body hurts. The fight was quick and brutal and now he’s tied up, legs spread, sitting up against the headboard of his own bed with his arms splayed wide.

Well. If being shibari’d to his own bed by his evil twin doesn’t say something about lifestyle choices, he isn’t sure what does.

His doppleganger picks up Tony’s phone from the floor and starts flipping through it. His lips— _Tony’s_ lips, his own goddamn face except for the eye color—curl in a smug smirk that’s gut wrenching in its familiarity. Tony’s seen that look on his own face, before.

“And Pepper Potts, too,” his twin murmurs. “You really are just a pale copy of me and my universe, aren’t you? Ooh, hel-lo. Who’s this?” Avarice darkens his gaze; he taps and scrolls, then tilts the phone so Tony can see. Peter Parker’s innocent face fills the screen and Tony jerks at the cords around his wrists.

“You fucking piece of garbage, if you touch him—”

“Oh, my shadow,” his twin shakes his head. “Not a full day in your ‘verse and you keep disappointing me. You’ve just told me he’s _exactly_ the person I should touch.”

He flicks his wrist; a splash of chrome flies off his suit like paint splatter and hits Tony’s throat, burns into his skin and he screams, but only for a second. Air keeps pushing out of his throat, but there is no more sound. Nothing. Tony meets his own eyes (pale as a winter sky) and a conspiratorial wink, grotesque because that’s _his_ face, _his_ wink and in this context, so wrong.

“Vocal cord paralytic. It’ll wear off in a bit,” his twin smiles. “Don’t want you ruining our surprise.” He taps the phone and Tony hears it ring.

_Oh, Pete. Don’t pick up, kid. Don’t pick up!_

“Hey. It’s me,” his doppleganger says, voice urgent. “I have an emergency situation. I need you at the tower, _right_ now. No, don’t tell anyone. Top secret, superhero stuff, you know the drill.” He listens, watching Tony’s face, then his teeth bare in a shark’s grin. “You’ll understand everything, soon.”

 

—

 

Peter climbs the side of Stark tower to enter Tony’s quarters by the runway on the top floor. His chest is in knots, the hairs on his arms and neck lifted. _Something_ isn’t right. The knot eases when he sees Tony, leaned against the door frame to greet him. He wears a pale blue shirt, unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up and Peter doesn’t know whether to be more distracted by his forearms or the curves of his abs. Tony’s got his sunglasses on, even though it’s two in the morning. The drink in his hand might explain it. He waves Peter inside, opens his arm as Peter gets close and wraps it around his shoulders.

“Take the mask off, baby. Let me see your face.”

Peter obeys without thought. “What’s wrong, Mr. Stark? I used the credit card you gave me to catch a cab, I hope you don’t mind.”

Tony laughs, then: a deep, rolling sound that’s both surprised and pleased. He turns into Peter, looks down at him and Peter wishes he could see Tony’s eyes; he isn’t acting like there’s an emergency.

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course I don’t mind.” He keeps that arm around Peter’s shoulders as he steps forward, pushing their chests together and Peter forgets how to breathe. Tony’s hand holding the drink comes up to touch his chin and the scent of fine whiskey wraps around him like a fog. “I’m glad you let me take care of you. You’re _my_ boy, aren’t you?”

Peter inhales a sharp gasp. Those words, that tone, drive a line of heat straight to his crotch. Heat floods his neck. Surely Tony didn’t mean it that way. Peter knows his desire is one-sided; has been for years. He doesn’t answer the question. His mouth feels frozen. Tony walks him a few steps back, a smirk on his handsome lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and Peter knows this can’t be what he thinks it is, but his body isn’t listening.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and tosses the tumbler aside. It hits the floor with a heavy _thunk._ He pulls Peter in and grips his chin with the arm wrapped around his shoulders, half-choking him and Peter realizes with a flutter of panic that his hard-on is pushing against Tony’s thigh.

“Mr. Stark,” he gasps. It’s like his brain’s shorted out. He’s drowning in Tony’s scent, that delicious cologne he always wears, the light salt of his sweat, and Peter’s almost hyperventilating as Tony leans down until they’re drinking each other’s breaths.

“Mmmm, look at you, baby. So hungry for _Daddy.”_ His thigh pushes forward and he rolls his hips up, and there’s no question he does it on purpose. Peter lets out an embarrassing whine. He may be stronger than Tony, but that sound speaks the truth of their relationship. Tony Stark owns him, body and soul. Has since they first met.

Tony drinks in the moan, reflects it back to him in a pleased sigh and nips at his bottom lip. Peter’s legs shake. He’s grinding against Tony’s thigh, needy like an animal and he can’t help it; he’s wanted this for so long.

“Do you dream about this, pretty baby? Huh?” Tony murmurs. He puts an arm around Peter’s lower back and lifts him with ease, nudges with his legs until Peter takes the hint and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist. “How many times have you jacked off to me? Tell me.”

He walks with Peter in his arms, walking toward the bedroom and if Peter’s brain was short-circuited before, it’s complete jelly now.

“I-I don’t know, sir,” he gasps. “Every day. For years. Oh, god. I want...oh, Mr. Stark!” He arches as the man’s hand dips into the cleft of his ass, pressing through the suit. They cross the threshold of the bedroom and Tony kicks the door shut behind them. The lights are low and it’s perfect because Peter’s simultaneously shy and desperate to see Tony without the shirt on.

“Take this off,” Tony murmurs, tapping Peter’s suit. “Let me taste you.”

 _“Oh,”_ Peter whimpers, so close to cumming right there as he tightens his legs around Tony’s waist and Tony holds his ass in both hands so Peter can let go of him to pull out of the suit. He pushes it down to his waist, then Tony’s hand is in his hair, pulling his back into an arch and there’s warm breath on his nipple and _teeth_ and _oh god, is this happening?!_

_“AH! Ah, ah, Mr. Stark, ohhHHH!”_

The man’s lips seal around the throbbing, bitten skin and _suck,_ and Peter thinks he might die from pleasure. No one’s ever touched him like this. He wishes Tony would take off the sunglasses; it feels so impersonal, not being able to see his eyes.

“Are you still a virgin, baby boy?” Tony asks, and Peter shudders because he can feel Tony’s hard cock riding up against his balls.

Peter nods, embarrassed. Tony’s so much older than him, so much more experienced. Will he back off, once he realizes Peter’s “experience” comes entirely from porn videos on his phone?

But Tony’s grip in his hair tightens; he yanks back and Peter yells in surprise.

“Use your words, Petey. Is Daddy’s little boy a virgin?”

Those words steal Peter’s breath, but he manages a choked, _“Yes, sir!”_

Tony’s pleased chuckle rumbles through him. “What about kissing? Have those pretty lips ever tasted another boy? A girl, maybe?”

Peter shakes his head, too humiliated to look into Tony’s eyes, even shaded as they are by the sunglasses. “No, sir,” he whispers.

But Tony groans, as if that answer makes him incredibly hot. He grinds their hips together and Peter’s transported.

“Oh, please, Tony,” he moans.

That hand jerks his hair back, and Peter’s head rocks from a slap that leaves his ear ringing on that side. He’s so shocked, he doesn’t even think to pull away. Tony’s lips are hot against his burning cheek, the scratch of his beard unbearable on the sensitized flesh.

“You may call me _sir,_ or _Mr. Stark,_ or _Daddy._ Those are your options, _boy._ Do you understand?”

Peter’s eyes are full of tears. He blinks and they run down his face, onto T—onto Mr. Stark’s lips, and the man licks it up as though he enjoys the taste.

“Y-yes sir, Mr. Stark,” he stammers; he’s not brave enough to call the man “Daddy.”

Mr. Stark thumbs his chin.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmurs. Humiliation and pride fuse into a glowing ball in Peter’s chest, spreading warmth throughout his body. Mr. Stark’s skin is cool by comparison, the only thing that keeps Peter from burning up. He leans in and presses his lips against Peter’s, tongue invading his mouth and goatee scratching his lips raw. His first kiss and it’s _Tony Stark,_ and the man doesn’t hold back. He knows how sensitive Peter is, yet he eats into him like a hungry beast. Peter submits to it, completely overwhelmed. His mouth and nose and flesh and senses are all full of _Tony,_ and if the hair’s still lifted on his neck, that’s just because everything is dialed way past eleven right now.

 

—

 

Tony Stark grins over Peter’s shoulder at his shadow-self, who watches helplessly from the bed. The pathetic sap looks like a vein in his forehead is about to burst. Tony slips his own shirt off, grinning as Peter’s hands flutter over his skin, eager, but (rightfully) afraid to lay hands on him.

“You really are a virgin in every way,” he smirks. “Touch me, boy. Find out what a real man feels like.”

The flush has gone all the way down Peter’s chest. Tony’s handprint lights up Peter’s left cheek: a gorgeous, cherry red overlaying all that hot pink. The tips of the boy’s ears glow like candle flames.

Tony grips his shirt behind Peter’s back and folds it, then brings it up over Peter’s eyes.

“No,” Peter gasps.

“Did you just say ‘no’ to me?” Tony lets his words melt with the disdain he holds for this entire, sorry world. If Peter fights him, he’s going to find himself badly outclassed.

Peter inhales sharply.

“I-I didn’t mean it, sir,” he amends. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Mmm, that’s what I thought.” He ties the blindfold tightly around Peter’s eyes, tucks in the fabric to block all sight.

He maneuvers the boy’s legs from around his waist, makes him stand straight and turns him sideways, putting the boy on display for their bound audience.

Tony takes off the sunglasses with a flourish that is for the benefit of no one but himself. He kneels in front of the boy to pull the spider-suit the rest of the way off. Peter’s thick, young cock springs out eagerly. Tony fists it and chuckles when a wavering moan leaks from the boy’s mouth. Over on the bed, his shadow self glances at Peter’s dripping cock then looks quickly away.

“Never been fucked,” Tony murmurs, looking at his other self and letting his breath ghost along Peter’s cock. “Never been kissed.” He curls his tongue around the base of Peter’s cock and grins at the whimper he elicits. “Never been sucked.”

He wraps his lips around the boy’s hooded cockhead and slathers it with his tongue. Peter’s hands find his hair, but the boy is smart enough not to pull. Tony gets the head nice and wet before he dives down to bury his nose in Peter’s thatch. The kid’s cock makes a nice throatful, and he bobs on it a few more times before pulling off with a satisfied smack. Peter’s legs shake adorably; he really is a virgin in every way.

Tony looks up at his lesser twin. The man’s face is twisted between horror and hunger. Of course, the pathetic worm has denied himself this pleasure. But he’s _wanted_ it.

Tony knows that, because he wanted Peter from the moment he saw that sweet face gazing out of his shadow-self’s phone.

 

—

 

Bound to the headboard, silenced by some tech he’s never even considered, Tony can do nothing but watch. Peter’s innocent moans tug at his heart. The way the boy shakes, cries out _“Mr. Stark!”_ Not even angry after the slap. As if Tony has the right to treat him any way he wants.

As if Tony owns him.

He’d denied it for so long, and here it is, his sin of the mind coming back to swallow him whole. Tony could cry when Peter arches under his twin’s touch.

_“Please, sir...please...”_

The other man stands up, trailing kisses along Peter’s hip, stomach, chest and shoulder as he does. He tilts the boy’s chin up and takes his mouth in a kiss that’s got to be thick with the taste of Peter’s cock. The boy’s hands come to his shoulders, gripping hard as his legs tremble like they’ll go out from beneath him.

 _“Beg me to fuck you,”_ the man whispers, but his blue eyes are focused on Tony. Peter licks his lips, breath shaking.

 _“Please...f...fuck me, Mr. Stark, sir,”_ Peter breathes.

 _I’m gonna kill you,_ Tony thinks, and it’s almost like his doppleganger can hear his thoughts. It’s Tony’s own cocky smirk that shines back at him, and it’s like they share one mind in that moment.

 _I’m taking what’s yours,_ his twin is saying to him. _And you’re going to sit there and watch. And want. And hate yourself for not doing it first._

Because he does; he _wants_ this. He wants to be Peter’s first. He’s rock hard, watching the boy’s slim muscles shake under _his_ hands. It’s like he’s watching the world’s most invasive porn video.

His other self walks Peter to the bed and shoves him back on it. Pulls his wrists together and a chrome tendril laces out from the glowing reactor on his chest, swirls down his arm and wraps Peter’s wrists and forearms a dozen times over. Peter gasps and tugs at the binding.

“You can try to break it, if you want,” the doppleganger says, grinning. “You aren’t getting out of this until I _let_ you out.”

Peter’s breath is high and tight in his throat. He’s afraid, but he doesn’t know he should be _terrified._ Tony’s hands flex, aching to grab Peter and _run._

His doppleganger climbs onto the bed, hooks one hand under Peter’s arm and lifts him. Peter kicks his legs, making a hurt sound that socks Tony straight in the chest.

 _You’re HURTING HIM!_ His throat won’t move, so he screams the accusation with his eyes.

His twin’s cold gaze reflects back at him: _I know._

Peter’s feet are still tangled in his suit. He squirms until the fabric comes free. He’s just starting to get his feet under him when Tony’s twin kicks his legs apart. More silver ropes flow around Peter’s ankles and pull his legs wide. The man throws him down and Peter doesn’t quite catch himself. His face hits the bed inches from Tony’s crotch.

Peter’s whimpers are edging out of “scared” and into “panicked.” He rubs his face against the mattress, trying to push the blindfold up. The doppleganger slaps a hand over Peter’s cloth-covered eyes and jerks his head back.

“Do you want to see? Ask and you shall receive. Don’t be a naughty boy and try to _take_ what you want.”

Peter swallows loudly. His voice sounds wet, like he’s holding back a sob. “Please Mr. Stark. Please take the blindfold off?”

“Mmm...what’ll you do in exchange for your sight? Will you make Daddy happy with your tight, virgin ass? Will you be good while Daddy cums inside you?”

A whine. Tony’s legs shift; he can hardly hold still when Peter sounds like that. The boy is letting Tony take him apart because he _trusts_ Tony to put him back together. He doesn’t understand the darkness in Tony’s heart. That darkness, free and hungry behind glacial blue eyes, is enough to break him until there’s nothing left to repair.

 _Don’t,_ he begs, and he’s begging himself. Literally and figuratively. Begging that he doesn’t have it in him to do this to Peter.

“Of course you will,” his other self coos. “You’ll be a good little slut for us, won’t you.”

Peter twitches, and goes still. His nostrils flare. “Us?” He repeats, a plea in his voice. _Let me have heard wrong,_ it said. _Let me have misunderstood._

The doppleganger spits onto his own fingers, slips them between Peter’s legs and the boy lurches forward with a choked scream. At the same moment, the man pulls the blindfold off him.

Shocked amber eyes stare at Tony’s crotch, then up his bare chest to his face. Tony is shaking, head to foot. But then, so is Peter. The boy lifts himself on his forearms and twists to look behind, at the blue eyed Tony Stark, also shirtless and with at least one finger inside him from the way Peter had screamed.

“W-w-what,” Peter stutters. He looks forward again, at Tony desperately trying to get sound out of his paralyzed throat. “Mr. Stark!?”

His eyes are begging. _Please tell me this isn’t happening._

The doppleganger pulls a small bottle from his pocket, squeezes it over Peter’s crack and the boy jerks forward again as he feels the liquid hit him.

 _“Oh, god,”_ Peter moans.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, sweetheart.” The man’s forearm flexes with the movement of his fingers and Peter’s mouth hangs open over a choked whimper. “Just _feel._ Feel what we do to you. Listen to my voice, baby. You know who I am. You’ve always belonged to Tony Stark, haven’t you, baby boy?”

He slaps the side of Peter’s head. The boy shakes his head like he’s shaking off water, and gasps out a hasty, “Yes, sir,” followed by a loud moan as Tony’s twin grabs the back of his neck and drives his fingers in to the last knuckle.

_“Oh, please, Mr. Stark! Please, I can’t—I can’t—”_

“Can’t what? Can’t give me what’s mine?” Blue eyes harden and he twists his wrist until Peter sobs into the mattress, hips bucking into his touch as much as away from it. “Can’t help being a dirty slut for your old man? With your legs wide open and your ass in the air? Try and tell me you don’t want this,” he snarls, and releases Peter’s neck to reach around him and stroke his leaking cock.

Peter’s bloodshot eyes lift back to Tony’s, desperate. Begging him, but for what? To make it stop? Or to let it continue? Tony’s cock is at high mast inside his pajama pants and Peter sees it. His trembling lips open as if to say something, but it turns into another moan.

The doppleganger takes hold of Peter’s hair, holding him so he has no choice but to look at Tony.

“Say, ‘please, fuck me with your giant cock, Mr. Stark,’” he orders.

Peter’s breath shivers over a whine. Tears drip down the sides of his nose. “Pl-lease—AH!—oh! Please fuck m-me, with your giant…OHGODOHGOD!”

“My giant _what,_ boy?” The man grins. He tilts Peter’s ass up until Tony can see: he’s got four fingers shoved inside the boy’s virgin hole.

 _“Giant cock!”_ Peter shouts. _“It hurts! Please, it hurts, Mr. Stark!”_

“Poor baby,” the man rumbles. “I’ve got something that’ll feel a whole lot better.”

Peter glances up at Tony’s eyes, then away. His whole face, neck and ears are bright red. Humiliation and pain have his eyes glassy as a drug addict’s. He moans in relief as the man’s fingers pull out of him. The doppleganger unbuckles his pants and pulls himself out. His cock, like the rest of him, is a mirror image of Tony’s. Long and thick, far too big for a virgin boy.

“I’m gonna ruin you, baby,” he purrs, and smiles as Tony jerks ineffectually against the ropes. He maintains that eye contact while he slicks up his cock, then brings it right up to Peter’s entrance.

Tony twists and tugs at his bonds in a panic. Peter’s hyperventilating. He’s too tense. He’s going to tear. He’s going to bleed. Tony shakes his head at himself, because it _is_ him, it’s _him_ doing this. His lips move in silent pleas.

_Don’t! Stop! Stop!_

He can go to hell for a lot of things, but please god not this.

Tony looks into his own eyes as the man’s hips push forward.

Peter’s breath cuts off. He curls over himself as if clutching a stomach wound, statue-still as Tony’s double breaches him. The man takes it slow, millimeter by millimeter pressing inside. Thirty seconds without a breath, and then a gasp rattles through Peter’s throat. He tries to lurch forward, but the man grabs his hips and holds him in place. Peter’s bound hands reach forward, grab onto Tony’s thigh like it’s a life raft.

_“Hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts aah aah aah—”_

“Mmm, I know it does, baby,” the man rumbles, with Tony’s voice, Tony’s words (if he was a sociopathic monster and would do this to someone who loves and trusts him) (and clearly, he is) Tony’s hands holding Peter’s hips in place as he drives deeper.

Peter’s breath stops again. His grip is going to leave black bruises on Tony’s skin. It’s the least he deserves for causing this.

His twin pauses, halfway sheathed in Peter’s body. He tilts Peter’s hips so Tony can see the ridge of the boy’s overstretched hole wrapped tight around his cock.

“Would you look at that,” he marvels. “Look at that cherry pop.” He traces a finger over the rim. Peter hitches in a sob. “Shh, that’s a good little boy. Get used to Daddy inside you. Ohh, fuck that’s good.” He groans, turns half-lidded eyes up to Tony and sneers, “you pathetic worm. You could have had this, but you left him for me. _You_ did this. Saved him for the _superior_ version of you. Guess that just goes to show, you’re still not stupid as the rest of the vermin on this planet.” A triumphant sneer tugs at his lips and he sinks deeper into Peter’s shaking body. “This one, though...ugh, I’m keeping this one. It’s gonna be fun, dirtying him up.”

 _“Can’t,”_ Peter begs into the comforter, _“s-s-st-op...hurrrts…”_

“Push down on me, baby,” the man coos. “There you go. I know, I know. It’ll start to feel good. You’re doing such a good job for Daddy. Being such a good boy. Giving me that sweet little cherry. Look up, sweetheart. Look at how much your Tony wants you.”

Peter’s head comes up. Low to the bed now, his eyes are blocked by the tent in Tony’s pants.

Tony feels like he’s choking on flames, the shame burns so hot inside him. And even so, a part of him is memorizing the taut lines of Peter’s body, the way his pink hole stretches to take his twin’s cock, the breathy whines of _“can’t”_ and _“hurts.”_

The man shoves his hips forward when there are just a couple inches left, slides home with a slap of skin on skin, and Peter _shrieks._ He tries to lunge forward, to get away from the pain, but the man hangs onto his hips and rides the motion. He jerks Peter’s hair until the boy’s head leans back onto his shoulder, so Peter’s lithe body is on display, and Tony is shocked to see the boy’s cock still hard, with precum drooling from the tip.

Tony’s twin sets a hand over Peter’s belly and _pushes._ Peter’s eyes fly wide open. He squeals out a helpless sound, and the doppleganger laughs. He shifts, angles so he’s thrusting straight forward and Peter bucks in his arms. His scream breaks in his throat.

“You’re always gonna remember this first time,” the man promises, eyes locked with Tony. “Cause you’ll _never_ be the same after I’m through with you.”

He pushes Peter back onto his elbows, drags the sobbing boy forward until he’s hovering right over Tony’s crotch. His big hand closes over the back of Peter’s head and pushes his face down into the thin fabric which covers Tony’s raging hard-on.

“Suck it,” the man orders. “It’s mine, after all. Show me how desperate you are for my cock. Take it in your mouth and ass at the same time, you depraved little _cockslut.”_

Peter tries to look up, maybe for permission, but the other Tony holds his head down. A sob ratchets through his chest and Tony can feel his wet breath through the soft cotton of his pants. Then Peter’s mouth closes around the side of his cock and it’s a struggle not to let his eyes roll back. Not to admit to himself—neither the Tony across from him nor the Tony that _is_ him—how fucking good it feels.

“That’s right, whore. Suck your Daddy’s big cock. Show him how much you want it.”

The man tilts his hips gently forward and back while Peter sobs over Tony’s clothed cock, loosening the boy up with the motion.

 _“Fuck,_ Tony,” the doppleganger groans. “How’d you keep your dick outta this for so long? This slut’s been after you for years, you know that? Jerking himself to sleep, dreaming about getting bred by Daddy Stark. Isn’t that right, boy?”

He jerks Peter’s head up. Peter’s eyes meet Tony’s for an instant, and the fear in them says everything. His twin is telling the truth.

 _“You piece of shit,”_ Tony rasps, then looks up as he realizes his voice is back. His other self smirks.

“Right on time. You wanna cuss yourself out while we take what we’ve always wanted? Be my guest.”

Without pulling out, he shoves his hips forward, hard.

Peter’s breath chokes off. He thrashes his head back and forth in silence until his voice bursts free in a broken whine.

“Mmm, feels good from that angle, doesn’t it, baby? Daddy’s sooo deep inside your little body.”

He stirs his hips, and Peter writhes, face buried in the comforter until the man jerks his hair back.

“Look at him. That’s me, right there. That’s the part of me too _chickenshit_ to take what’s mine.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Tony snarls. “I will rip you limb from limb and leave you for the vultures, you _fucking sack of garbage.”_

His own face smirks back at him. “Look at him, Peter. Leaking through his pants for you. This is what he always wanted to give you. Not some StarkTech suit, not money, not _mentoring_ or whatever the fuck he’s told you. He wanted to feel your lips on his cock. He wanted to feel your ass sucking tight around him.”

Peter’s eyes are too wide, white showing all around the irises. His breath pants out in little whimpers. The rocking motion changes to short thrusts, and Peter’s forehead creases; a thin whine leaks from his mouth.

“Mmm, starting to feel good, now? Tell Daddy you like it. Say it!” He jerks back on Peter’s hair.

 _“OHH Daddy I like it! AHH!”_ His voice is a train wreck. Tony is never going to forget that sound; his twisted brain will make sure of that.

“Good boy,” Tony’s twin purrs. “You get a sweet treat for being so honest with Daddy.”

He pushes on Peter’s upper back until his chest is arched into the bed, ass in the air and hair still pulled back so he’s staring wide-eyed up at Tony.

The man starts pounding into him, long thrusts that knock the breath from Peter’s lungs.

Fat tears stream down the boy’s face. Tony whispers Peter’s name, tells him it’ll be ok, that he’ll get through this, but his own rigid dick gives the lie to his comfort and he’s dying inside because he can see Peter shattering. Those doe eyes go half-lidded as endorphins help him ride out the pain and there are moans sandwiched between his wet sobs.

“That’s my baby boy,” the other man coos, his praise a twisted complement to Tony’s words of support. “Fuck, such a good boy for Daddy. Come here. Show your other Daddy some love.”

Tony looks up, almost chokes out “No!” before he thinks how much more damage _that_ might do to Peter, and begs instead with his eyes.

_Please, don’t do this. Please. You’ve got what you wanted._

His own eyes narrow back at him. The cruel baring of teeth replies:

_I want MORE._

 

—

 

Peter can hardly breathe as Mr. Stark lifts his legs. Still inside him, he curls his knees to his chest and tries to hold still. Any movement might tear him to shreds. Mr. Stark lifts him up until he’s straddling the _other_ Mr. Stark, his bound hands resting against the shining reactor in the man’s chest, and his own hard cock smacks Mr. Stark’s lower belly. He gasps at the sensation of warm flesh and soft, curly hair. Mr. Stark’s hard-on rubs up his perineum and pushes his balls to one side. He’s only vaguely aware that he should have tried to run when the bonds loosened around his ankles. They’re tight again, holding him to the bed. Holding him in Mr. Stark’s lap.

Peter’s head is floating in a cloud. It still hurts, the cock inside him, but when it moves, these sparks fly through his whole body and it feels like flying. The blue-eyed Mr. Stark breathes against his throat, hips still with a waiting silence. Calm before a storm.

“Ride him,” he orders.

Peter glances up to meet brown eyes, wide like he might say “no.” Like maybe Peter only deserves to get fucked by some cruel, twin version of himself, but isn’t good enough for the real Tony Stark. Misery floods through his chest at that thought. But it’s the _other’s_ words that pulls him out of the imminent spiral.

“See how much he wants you, sweetheart?” the man rumbles in his ear. “See how he’s been denying himself. He’s been desperate to bend your pretty body over his desk and fuck you raw, to breed you full of his cum and leave your hole gaping wide open, dripping wet. He _needs_ to fuck his little boy. Show him, baby. Show him how good it is.”

Peter swallows his tears. This, at least, makes sense. Of course, he wants to help Mr. Stark feel good. He rocks his hips tentatively, but that makes the other man’s cock pull out just a fraction and his breath stops.

“You need Daddy’s help?” The man intuits, hands stroking down Peter’s sides. Soothing him.

Peter sniffles and nods. Mr. Stark is looking up at him, and he’s actually _blushing,_ which is somehow more intimate and strange than their position.

“Show him how your lips taste,” the _other_ says, pushing Peter forward until his bound forearms are sandwiched tightly between himself and Mr. Stark. “Show him what he’s been missing. I promise you, he’ll love it just as much as I do.”

They’re already close enough to taste each other’s breath. With the help of a hand pushing on the back of his head, Peter closes the gap.

Instead of alcohol, this Tony Stark tastes like mint toothpaste. At first, neither of them move. Then the man behind him renews his thrusts, and it forces Peter’s hips forward and back, makes him grind on his mentor’s clothed cock and rubs his own sensitive cockhead into ticklish belly hair.

Peter moans into Mr. Stark’s mouth. His cry is swallowed and Mr. Stark is returning the kiss now, groaning and biting Peter’s lips as if he’s starved for the taste of them.

Something explodes behind Peter’s eyes as the unexpected orgasm sweeps through him. He disappears, lost under waves of pleasure beyond anything he can comprehend.

He comes back to himself, still crying out as he’s filled with a cock that seems bigger than his whole body. He looks on in a daze as a hand runs through the dripping, white cum on Mr. Stark’s chest, then lifts it to his open mouth. Those fingers force the semen past his tongue and shove into Peter’s throat. He gags and struggles. Drool falls down his chin, onto the bound Mr. Stark’s neck and chest.

The fingers stay hooked over his tongue. Peter struggles to breathe, struggles just to _exist_ as that massive cock pushes in and out of him. It still feels good, but it’s hurting again too and he tries to beg. He gurgles unintelligible sounds around the fingers in his mouth.

“Oh, son,” the _other_ Mr. Stark breathes hot on his ear, gritty with need. “Daddy’s gonna cum. Beg me to breed you, sweetheart. Come on.” He slaps the side of Peter’s face with his free hand. Peter tries to pull back from the hand in his mouth so he can speak, but the man won’t let him. Shame drives deep into his guts, twisting him inside out.

Peter gargles out _“Please breed me Daddy”_ as best he can, then screams as Mr. Stark’s teeth latch onto his throat and bite down. The cock inside him pulses and Peter realizes he’s cumming. Tony Stark, the man Peter idolizes above any other, is cumming inside of him.

But it isn’t Tony.

But it _is._

Something deep, deep inside of Peter’s chest cracks and shatters into pieces.

 

—

 

Tony cums at the same time as his doppleganger. It’s Peter’s voice that does it: the choked gargle around his thick fingers, the way the kid tries to please Tony no matter what the situation. The way Peter’s cum clings to his chest, or how the drool shines on his chin and his strong thighs squeeze Tony’s hips.

Tony’s other self stares him down, pushes Peter against Tony’s chest to pull out of him, and hot cum leaks out of the boy’s gaping hole to soak through Tony’s pants. Peter hides his face in Tony’s neck, lets out a wrecked sob, and Tony tilts his head against Peter’s.

“Hush baby,” he whispers. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m right here.”

His other cocks an eyebrow at that. He leans in against Peter’s back, lips close to Tony’s so he’s almost kissing himself.

“Stay here sweetheart,” he says to Peter. “I’ll be ready to fuck you again in a minute. I’m sure _your_ Mr. Stark will look after you while I clean up,” he smirks.

Tony avoids the blue eyes, this time. He can’t bear to look at himself. At what he’s done. What he _is._ He doesn’t move until his twin disappears into the bathroom.

 _“Peter,”_ he whispers urgently. _“Can you reach my wrists? Untie me, Pete, I’ll get you out of here, sweetheart—”_

He cuts off, realizing what he just said. How naturally it rolled off his lips. Peter catches it too; he hides further in Tony’s neck and shakes his head.

“Can’t, sir,” he mumbles. “You said to wait for you.”

Tony leans his head back against the headboard, tears stinging behind his eyes. "I'm right here, sweetheart. It'll be ok."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> UPDATE: so much thirst out there for SIM Tony haha glad I’m not the only one. I had intended this to be a one-off but have wound up making it a series on Tumblr, starting here: [Mine](http://subverbaldreams.tumblr.com/post/185683871749)
> 
> Once I get another post or 2 done, I'll start uploading them here on AO3.
> 
> Tumbl me [HERE](http://subverbaldreams.tumblr.com/fics) for more art and fics.


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